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He watched from the shadows, moving silently, unseen but seeing. She was remarkable. Her tiny form moved effortlessly through the complex patterns of her dance. She spun lightly and the moonlight glanced blindingly off the exquisitely crafted blade that she wielded with such deadly accuracy. Tiny slippered feet floated across the earth bearing her lightly towards her prey. She spun, her feet flying, her sword slicing through the air in a deadly arc and a rain of dust filled the air as two of her opponents fell to her expertise. The dance continued as the remaining vampires closed around her and he readied himself to intervene if necessary.  

She whirled; fending off attacks and delivering meticulously placed death blows with the breathtaking fluidity of finest silk. In less time than it took for him to marvel at her skill, she stood alone in a swirling cloud of dust, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps, and her heart pounding from the adrenalin that raged through her veins. 


He had sought her out. Ever since learning of the Slayer’s existence from his Grandsire he had been fixated upon the idea of finding one. He needed to see for himself this legendary being whose name Angelus had touted sneeringly; thinking the mere mention of her would be enough to frighten him into acquiescence. Rather, he was driven with a need, a burning desire to find this girl, this human whose sole purpose was the destruction of his kind. He had hunted down every scrap of lore, every mention, no matter how fantastic; anything to do with slayers, their watchers and the council that governed them.  

He had learned of the current Slayer’s whereabouts deep within the Asian continent and had subtly set about convincing both Darla and Drusilla of their need to visit China. He’d been careful not to appear over-eager; ingeniously, and at appropriate moments, offering tempting hints about the fineries available, the exquisite silks, and the rare and beautifully-crafted jewellery. It hadn’t taken long; Darla, her eyes aglow at the thought of the luxuries awaiting them, had quickly announced a need for an excursion to the Orient. Their journey had been slow, with their progress hampered by Angelus’ weakness and ill-health. The elder vampire continued to cling to his family and the illusion that he still ruled over them despite the soul that had been forced upon him. Although things between Darla and her paramour were shaky at best and her intolerance of his continued refusal to feed properly grew daily. 

Spike, however, couldn’t give a toss if his vaunted grandsire lived off rats, wasting away to a shadow of his former self. The bastard still had a foul temper but none of his previous speed or strength to make good on any of his angrily growled threats; a fact that Spike was quick to take advantage of whenever the occasion allowed. Pushing his grandsire’s buttons had always been an entertaining sport; the only difference was that it was now one far less likely to end in his own dusty demise. For the moment, however, baiting Angelus was far from his mind; all Spike cared about was that he had found his Slayer, or at least her city. Now all that was left was to locate the girl herself. 

He had finally tracked her down after scouring the city for the last two nights. Upon locating her he knew that he would, from this point on, never fail to recognise when a Slayer was nearby. The feeling of power that emanated from her was almost intoxicating, and he’d found himself trailing her movements, watching from the shadows as she fought and destroyed seven of his kind with unprecedented ease; granted they didn’t have the benefit of the Aurelian bloodline—nevertheless the numbers alone should have been enough to ensure their victory. He knew in his bones, in his blood, that here was an opponent worth facing.
She was younger than he’d expected. He’d known, of course, that she was sixteen but he hadn’t expected her to be so small and childlike, and yet with eyes that held a weariness far beyond her tender years.

He watched with interest as she calmed her breathing. Closing her eyes, she quickly slowed her racing heartbeat, centring herself before opening them once more and stepping forth into the night.  



That one word, called through the night stilled her in her tracks and she turned slowly to confront him. 

War raged; hatred and intolerance bringing man to his knees as a vampire and a slip of a girl stepped forth to do battle. Chaos surrounded them; the night hung with the stench of death—of human misery, terror, and despair. Screams rent the air and the smoke of destruction clouded the city.  

Amidst all this they faced off; the world and its concerns melting into insignificance as the two warriors stood prepared to do battle. Power radiated from the tiny Slayer, her eyes fixed intently on her target, the sword held poised above her head, her chin tilted upwards; defiant, confident, and magnificent. As he faced down death a thrill coursed along his spine, time slowed and each moment hung in infinite clarity before him. A grin split his face as his eyes met hers in silent accord; it was time for their dance to begin and in that moment Spike felt more alive than ever before. 

the end